Adrenaline and mistakes
by author's archive
Summary: Sherlock and John were running through the streets of London chasing yet another murder. Are they aware of the thing that are yet to happen at the end of the case. Looks like Sherlock isn't realy a High functioning sociopath.


They had started the day with yet another case. Sherlock had claimed it too simple but Lestrade said that the case had baffled almost all the other DIs. Well this wasn't anything new. So due to Lestrade's and John's insistence, Sherlock decided to take the case. Like Sherlock had said, the case was relatively an easy one. By evening they started to pursue the suspect. They chased him down to a deserted alley. The killer was fast enough and seems to memorize the London map just like how Sherlock has in his mind palace. Sherlock ran fast like his whole life depend upon it and John followed him just some meters away.

"Come on John! Don't be slow! We have to catch him before Lestrade arrives here." Sherlock hurried off looking briefly back at John who was panting a little but closely following him all the same.

They stopped shortly because they seem to have missed the killer and Sherlock had to zoom through his mind palace to find a shorted way. Also it gave John little time to catch on his breath.

"Yes, climbing on this roof will help us to directly reach the lane the murderer was currently occupying and maybe if we are lucky we may arrive before him. Come on, John the game is afoot!"

"Seriously, I think I should be at home drinking tea and watching telly like any other normal person would, in this beautiful evening" John let out with an frustrated sigh.

"Yes but neither you nor I are considered to be normal people! Come on, Dinner at Angelo's after the case! I could feel the adrenaline pumping through your blood. You are not going to cancel that in the name of something like tea and telly!" Sherlock let out excitedly already on top of the roof.

John seems to consider that and nodded in agreement. "Oh, you smart man" he sighed and started following the sleuth even though his inner conscience told him not to.

On reaching the roof, he saw Sherlock jumping over another roof, his long coat trailing behind him dramatically. He shook his head and ran to follow the detective.

Again his inner conscience told him not to.

Again he ignored it.

He reached the next roof and the lane Sherlock mentioned the killer would be. But why he felt so foreboding is that there was only complete silence. No sign of his detective friend or the killer. John moved cautiously and he took his gun out just in case. _There is a murderer out there somewhere in the middle of the streets after all._ He moved further down the lane and turned and he only found silence. He smirked. _Turns out that Sherlock was finally wrong, at least for once._

But none was aware of the black shadow moving towards John.

Or the fact that the black shadow was the very same killer that they had been chasing.

Or the fact that the killer is – right now- having a butter knife in his hand.

He was only aware of this when he heard a crutching voice of boots contacting with a fallen branch.

But then it was too late.

John immediately turned around and seeing the killer smashed the back of his gun to the killer's temple, which immediately knocked him off. But what he didn't see coming was the searing pain in his lower abdomen. He looked down only to see a small knife sticking out of his solar plexus and losing his balance, he immediately fell.

Sherlock had jumped over the roof and the second roof. He came down and reached the lane were he thought he would meet his killer.

But he didn't.

That genuinely surprised him. He never got anything wrong, and he was always confident in his deductions. He looked back and saw John catching up. But he didn't wait any longer and he hurried off to the next lane and turned. He didn't spot the criminal anywhere and wondered where the killer could possibly be. He tried his mind palace for possible locations but found none. That is when it clicked. There was no other possible location the killer could have been judging by the time and speed he was running in. Even if he did, he would have laid obvious trails behind him. _If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, is the truth._ So the only possible idea is that the killer is somewhere here but waiting to act. And he deduced that the killer had not yet spotted him, because if he had, he would not have waited so long to act. He decided on the thought that the killer might be on the lane that Sherlock had first deduced he would be in. Then he mentally cursed himself. How could he have been so stupid and selfish! John didn't know about this and he surely didn't know about the killer hiding there. He then heard a small banging noise and a noise which was definitely the noise of knife piercing through skin. He froze. He didn't want to think what he thought he just heard. He just wished that the skin that the knife just pierced wasn't John's skin.

He hurried down to the first lane and the sight that met his eyes where… it was just too horrible for words. John was lying on the ground with an small knife sticking out of his lower abdomen. He couldn't see if he was conscious or unconscious. Beside him the killer was lying unconscious, obviously knocked off. Sherlock hurried towards his only friend and got into his knees. He gently slapped John's cheek to get his attention.

"John" he called frantically. "John!" he repeated again with a little panic. John opened his eyes a bit groggily and cracked a weak smile.

"Hoping when you did come. Looks like it's been a lo' of t'me" he joked groggily. And he began to shut his eyes.

No John! No!

"John please stay with me" Sherlock pleaded his eyes almost tearing up. He never cried. The last time he cried was after the death of his dog red beard. Stupid emotions. He felt that Mycroft was right _. Caring is not an advantage, little brother_. And now he couldn't even bear that his best friend is hurt. His only true friend.

John struggled to keep awake till the sound of the ambulance and the police car came. Looks like John had after all, called backup. Smart John, always knows what to do.

Then everything went in a blur. He saw Lestrade and a few other paramedics running towards them and a few of them took John into a stretcher and started checking his basic vitals and took him to the ambulance.

Sherlock had insisted that he travel on the ambulance with John instead of travelling in the police car which he detest very much. But the paramedics did not approve because he was not "family". He threatened them to end their career with his so many contacts, but they remained nonchalant what so ever. And finally, after a lot of struggles and arguments, he agreed to travel in a police car.

When he woke up the first thing he saw is white ceiling and the first thing he heard is the sound of beeping. The second thing he saw is the heart rate monitor and the second thing he heard is a light coughing noise. He turned a bit to see Sherlock sit crunches up on a chair, knees drawn up.

"Oh…ah….. well you are awake….finally..." he started awkwardly.

"Yes. Was I unconscious….. too long?" John asked shortly because he found it difficult to talk when his throat was so dry.

Sherlock immediately got up from his chair and took a glass and filled it with water. Sherlock always being observant had obviously sensed John's uneasiness. Such a gesture was unexpected from Sherlock. John gratefully accepted the water and drank it. Sherlock waited until John had finished and replied to his previous question.

"Well no. Not too long."

"That's good' John replied.

"Very good"

Then silence seem to engulf them.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John?"

"Sherlock were you actually worried about me?"

Sherlock seems to think before answering that. "Well not too much. But yes you seem to kind of scare me."

John nodded slightly and sat in a comfortable silence.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John"

"When do we go home?"


End file.
